Lullaby Mysterioso
by thecupcakeimp
Summary: It's only been three months since I've joined the Organization, but I can't stop this. It's like I'm repeating the same measures of a song over and over again. There is no first or second ending, just a repeat sign. Zemyx
1. Movement One

**A/N:** ;D Pickles here. I just wanted to say a few things about this little sonata. I wanted to experiment with style, and decided to try this. If you didn't know I'm in band, you'll know after reading this. Each movement is titled with a song by Claude Debussy, all piano solos, that I thought were fitting. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

**Alsoooo please note that:** this fanfiction was inspired by Peppermint Mocha and mine's ideas for a music video featuring the Zemyx relationship. It's going to be to Arise by E.S. Posthumus, which we found a rather fitting song. It's going to be filmed on May 8-10 at Anime Central in Rosemont, IL. We'll be running around in Zexion and Demyx cosplays, naturally. So... our little plotline was pretty much dancing in front of me, dancing in drag, and doing the hula. Yeah. It was tempting me.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Kingdom Hearts. Obviously. If I owned Kingdom Hearts, would I be writing fanfiction?

* * *

**Movement One: Reflets dans L'eau--Reflections on the Water  
**

It's only been three months since I've joined the Organization, but I can't stop this. It's like I'm repeating the same measures of a song over and over again. There is no first or second ending, just a repeat sign.

He's driving me insane.

His very posture speaks of mockery of me, his eyes empty, devoid of any semblance of feeling. He's a blank measure. I can't read him.

But I can't help but be even more curious. I want to inspect closer, see if there is a note I'm missing, just glancing over. Still nothing written on the staff but a bass and treble clef. Two empty staffs. Blank. His footsteps are a steady unbroken tempo like that of a metronome. One, two, three, four. Perfect four-four time.

I stood on the stairs, watching.

"Zexion?" I say, almost uncertainly.

"Yes?" smooth and even, melodic in a dark, secretive way.

"How was your mission in Hollow Bastion?"

"Better than yours in Wonderland," he replied with this smirk- one he can't realize is this infuriating.

I hated him then. Hated.

In a pathetic non-feeling sort of way.

The music switched to a more intense style, not furioso, but intense.

"Good morning to you too," I muttered. We parted ways, leaving me in a foul mood. Two pairs of chords, only one audible, the other dissonant in its silence, separating.

I went to my room, scowling.

* * *

That night I was plagued by incessant dreams of indigo eyes, and woke to Axel shaking me.

"The hell is wrong with you?" the fire-user spat, glaring at me, "You were screaming and fucking woke me up!"

I sat up slowly. I couldn't really remember the dream at all.

Axel probably thought I was just freaking out because I was still pretty new to the Organization, but in reality, I'd settled in pretty well. This wasn't because of that. I didn't know if it was an elusive past life, or… something else. Indigo eyes.

"I-I'm fine." Mysterioso. My heart, if I'd had one, would have been at least some allegro marking, a quick beat, panicked.

The next day I went to the library to see if there was anything about music theory- and there he was. Reading. Was that his Lexicon?

I immediately walked past him. His indigo eyes followed my every movement. Calculating and cold. I wanted to slam my head against something, he was making me so angry- and I didn't even know why. Mysterioso slid to a slightly faster tempo, the harmony growing richer tones.

And yet I couldn't hear his music.

I still hated him.

How could anyone hide themselves so easily?

* * *

I sighed on the train, the buildings in Twilight Town rushing past. I, of all people, had been sent to find him. I wasn't allowed to know what his mission was, what he was doing, nothing. No idea. He was in Twilight Town, and that was all I knew.

I got off in front of the small hole in the wall that led to the path to the abandoned mansion. I cautiously made my way through the forest. Moderato once again moved to mysterioso. It seemed to be a theme lately.

"Hello?" I called into the vast empty hall. I slowly went up the stairs to the left, and there was a scream of pain. The sound was like a cluster chord grating against my ears. I ran towards the door at the top and threw it open, and halted.

A fermata on a rest.

I waited for a cue to move during the grand pause.

His blood seemed to be staining everything in the room crimson.

The last traces of Neoshadow Heartless vanished. There was music on the staff now, as Zexion's eyes met mine. It was—I would never forget that look. Expressive, pensive, yet so full of _pain_. He dropped his Lexicon—an accent mark—and fell to the ground, a cascade of sound. There was still music playing. I darted over.

"Hey—hey, come on, let's—"

"No." A definitive answer. Marcato, tone defiant, molto sostenuto, determined.

"You're gonna bleed to death…"

"I deserve it," his hoarse reply was toneless, empty.

I couldn't hear the music anymore. It was gone.

"Well- I got sent after you, to get you back to the Castle, so that's what I'm gonna do." I helped him up, trying to avoid his wounds-deep gashes to his chest, his throat even-and opened a portal.

"Just-just get me to Vexen," he rasped sullenly. I helped him all the way there, the whole time listening for more music, but none came. The pen over the staff had stalled, not wanting to reveal more of the secret melody.

"Thank you," he said, but I knew he didn't mean a single word of the phrase.

"No problem," I said, meaning each word. My own tone was expressive, sure.

* * *

"What's his _problem?_" I spluttered at Axel and Roxas in the kitchen, exasperated. They gave each other this _look_. Like they just knew each other so well they didn't have to bother with skeptical words.

"He always acts like he's got something hard and covered in sandpaper shoved sideways up his ass," Axel shrugged, and Roxas nodded emphatically.

"But _seriously!_" I waved my arms trying to get across just how stupid this was. I sat on the counter, and they exchanged glances again.

"You like him?" Roxas said.

"Hate him!" I growled, opening a can of Moogle Pop Root Beer.

"So," Axel said smoothly, "You think you do."

"No, I really do!"

"Why?" Roxas asked.

"I get sent to bring him back to the Castle and he's completely just bleeding all over the place and he didn't appreciate it at all!" I sighed.

"You know he's not a Neophyte, right?" Axel said raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, what's that got to do with anything?" I asked.

"It means he's got to be one of the ones who helped _make_ this sort of a 'life', right? He's probably partly responsible," Roxas said.

I sighed again.

"So you think he doesn't care because he blames himself?"

"Isn't that what logical people do?" Roxas said, a smirk just barely on his lips.

* * *

The next time I passed him in the hallway I heard he music again. That dark melody, haunting, mysterioso, yet so layered it was hard to discern in its beauty and how perfectly it blended.

His wounds had been bandaged, and I never would have known he was injured if it wasn't for the tight-lipped expression held precariously on his usually emotionless face.

I said nothing to him.

* * *

And then there was _that_ day.

The day the music changed, took on an entirely new perspective. The day so much was shattered and lost, the day the full chords formed, the staff endlessly filled with notes ready, willing to speak.


	2. Movement Two

**A/N:** Can you tell I'm a band student yet? Anyway, this was typed up while listening to the Lord of the Rings soundtrack. Howard Shore is a brilliant man. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. I really do love writing this story. It's pretty fun.

* * *

**Movement Two: Et la Lune Decend Sur le Temple Qui Fut**

That day we were passing on the landing between staircases again.

He shoved me against the wall, indigo eyes pleading.

"Tell me how you do it," he whispered.

"W-what?" I stuttered, captivated.

"How do you pretend?' he demanded.

"What are you talking about?"

"Emotions. Do you remember them?"

"I could tell by Zexion's voice he couldn't.

"You… don't?"

"No. Nobodies each carry a unique set of memories. Who or what they are of is also unique to the Nobody," he said, "But you can find a key to your past memories. Some are simply more stubborn than others to unlock, such as emotions."

He was talking so much. Why so suddenly?

"A-a key? Zexion, why are you asking me this?"

"I want to… remember. You are the only one of us who truly does."

"The… only one?" I whispered, my eyes going wide.

Bright allegro Axel, deep powerful chords, maestoso, full of intensity—Roxas, a little mournful, thoughtful, an almost bittersweet melody… couldn't remember?

It was only me who could remember what it was like to feel.

"Yes. Only you." He confirmed my thoughts so easily.

"I-I don't know," I said, staring at him.

I was shocked.

His eyes _bored _into mine, searching, prying, and all movements other than his eyes scanning mine stopped.

Rest.

Next measure.

* * *

I lay on my bed, sitar across my stomach. My fingers darted across the strings in all too familiar motions, a different tone than usual coming from the vibrations. A little slower. Thoughtful even. Something darker.

"What are you moping about, water boy?" Axel said, leaning into my room from the doorway, allegro moderato.

"Huh? Oh I was just working out a song."

"C'mon, Dem, you _never_ play stuff like that. And you've been playing like that for a day now. Are we PMSing?"

"No," I rolled my eyes, "It was Zexion."

"What'd the punk do this-"

"No, no, no. No. It's a Zexion _song_."

He stared at me, nonplussed.

"Everybody but him has got some kind of melody, and I can't figure his out. Yours is something sort of like—like a march almost. It's got that even sort of temp, but it's all maestoso and intense. And then there's Roxas, who's sort of thoughtful. Nice background harmony, and the melody's got a somewhat bitter, almost sad sound. Determined, and- and then Larxene is sort of playful, but anxious and fast, lots of accent marks, and-"

"Okay, I get the point!" Axel sighed."

"But… I can't figure out _his._ I can't get the _right_ mysterioso across and it just-"

"You _do_ like him."

"What?" my eyes went wide.

"Ha! Roxas owes me ice cream! Hey, Roxas!" he called as he walked out, trying to find the blonde. Undoubtedly they would argue, and just go get ice cream anyway. Because that was just how they were.

I groaned, laying a hand across my face. Axel had it all wrong, as usual. The chords just didn't match up anymore.

* * *

I found him in the library, silent, cold, echoes passing between the high shelves.

"I assume you didn't come for a book," he looked up, eyes challengingly meeting mine.

"Nope," I said, glad my voice didn't waver. He was… intimidating. But I needed to hear the music. I sat down on the other side of the white couch.

"Then why are you here?"

"That's an awfully good question, isn't it?"

He smirked, apparently somewhat amused by my reply, and his eyes left me to return to the page of the book he was reading.

"What sort of music d'you like?" I blurted out. He looked up again.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just curious."

"I'm fond of Claude Debussy," he said, and went back to reading.

"So, you found that little section in the library at Hollow Bastion too?" Up in the ruins of the old castle, there were books, and I'd found some music hidden off in a corner, in a box.

"Obviously." Again, that smirk.

"You've got good taste," I smiled.

"And I know you're trying to lead up to something else," he said. I scratched the back of my neck.

"Uh- Sort of. I'm trying to figure you out."

"Good luck."

"No, I mean I've got Axel, Roxas, Larxene, Marluxia, Luxord, and everbody else… I've got their songs. But you're the only one whose music I can't… hear."

His eyes narrowed a little, "Oh?"

"Yeah, so… I'm trying to listen."

"That's it…" he muttered to himself.

"What?"

"That's how you remember. Music. It can trigger emotions easily in the brain, and since your very weapon is used for creating music, it would only make sense if that was your connection to your former self and their feelings, their memories… interesting…"

It kind of made sense when I thought about it.

"I guess so," I said. But then-

Piano. Zexion was a piano solo. I'd been listening for the wrong things the whole time. He was unique, one sound, simple, but you could easily create enough layers needed to represent him. There was so much that it sounded complex, but when you actually saw the sheet music you could discern the layers. You could pick apart the intricacies and single out that elusive melody.

I grabbed his arm and started running.

"I've got it! Piano! I was thinking too much, I thought you'd be an orchestration but-but no! I've-" I suddenly stopped talking, excited. I dragged him into my room, completely ignoring his protests. I forced him to sit down beside me on the bench.

The song was in a minor key, grazioso, full of glissandos and slurs, notes leaning into one another with a rhythmic accompaniment by the left hand. Accelerandos combined with decrescendos to create a small amount of tension. A small amount of dissonance, deceptive cadences rounding phrases. And yet the sound was not espressivo- but almost restrained, and barely rising above mezzo-piano.

Zexion simply watched.

Silent.

I played for a while, just letting it all out, letting the song take form. I really don't know how long. Until the ending chords, the finale, the last chords rang out. I turned to Zexion.

He was staring at the ebony and ivory keys.

Almost tentatively, he reached out and ran one thin finger along one.

"Zexion?" I said.

"How can… something so simple say so much?" he whispered to himself.

At that moment I knew I didn't hate him. Anything but hated him.

"Is something… wrong? I didn't mean to-"

"No," he stood, getting up to leave. I stood just as quickly, and put a hand on his arm.

"Tell me the truth."

"Why should I?"

"Well, sometimes-" he cut me off.

"I don't take chances with anything that begins with 'sometimes'." I let him go.

I had never, ever, wanted to hold someone so much in either of my lives.

I stared at the empty doorframe after he left, listening to his footsteps. One, two, three, four. Perfect four-four time. I waited for him to come back and explain.

He didn't.

* * *

I barely completed my missions.

Was any of this right?

Did I belong here?

It didn't seem like it.

Yes, Axel and Roxas were my friends, I supposed, but they seemed to be a little more than just friends, and keen on one another. There were others like them in the Castle, but things like finding comfort in one another was never spoken about.

I couldn't sleep, afraid of seeing those eyes.

I played his song constantly, a plea for him to come back.

He didn't.

* * *

The glances. Tiny little staccato notes slipped between slurs, definitive moments. Our eyes continually caught one another's, inadvertently. Every time they did, there was an eighth rest. A pause. Only just there to accentuate the established rhythm in the sonata we were carefully picking our way through.

Then there came another day, a day when the measure lines disappeared, and counting didn't seem to matter so much as letting the music flow the way it wanted, without hindrance or restriction.


	3. Movement Three

**A/N: **Hooray for writing during school! And this is all for Peppermint Mocha, because she's awesome, and made me a Paopu fruit plushie. CANNOT LOVE YOU MORE. XD

To those who have reviewed, THANK YOU. You keep me writing. 3 If you reviewed, you are so on my cool list.

* * *

**Movement Three- Reverie, and Interlude 1**

Suddenly, he started talking to me. We spoke of dreams long gone, hopes for this life, everything. It was strange. He always fell silent when I played any music, as if trying to feel, concentrating on that, and only that.

He would read and I would sit back and let a pen guide itself across a staff. Music came to me without effort, endlessly. I was writing _him_ a song.

The first time I kissed him, I never thought it would be like it was. _Natural_. The memory of happiness ghosting across my mind, nearly tangible- but like a melody in some impossible key signature I couldn't play. Our kiss was a silly romantic style of a duet that quickly faded back into the larger picture of things.

His glances at me were no longer cold, but held the warmth of a major triad. His song still held that mysterioso tone.

However… he did not reveal himself, oh no.

It was almost like it was a game for him.

* * *

We sat in the kitchen, waiting for his tea water to boil. I was smiling, munching on my favorite cereal (Organic Karma Crunchies, guaranteed 100% natural ingredients).

"So, how was that mission in Agrabah?" I asked.

"I think we did alright. After all, you weren't _too_ distracted this time."

I blushed slightly.

"That sales man was going to rip that poor guy off! I mean, seriously! How much can a stupid dented lamp be worth anyway?" He shrugged, poured his water and put a small bag of green tea in it. He sat down in the chair beside me, shaking his head, and I laid my head on his shoulder.

* * *

And there was that time when…

I ran my hands through his hair, the only sound besides us our echoes in the library. He took them in his own, contemplatively intertwining our fingers.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful I think your eyes are?" he kissed me.

"Hm?" I kissed him back, quick as a pizzicato string.

"Perfect cerulean," kiss, "Like that of a crystalline pool," kiss, "When sunlight hits it, glimmering," kiss, "And when you're sad because of what you have to do on orders," kiss, "The ocean becomes stormy blue as torrents of rain," kiss, "Come crashing down."

I kissed him hard, holding him tightly, not sure what to say.

"You talk so pretty," I whispered, "With words that could lull me to sleep if you wanted, with that voice of yours." He moved quickly, straddling me against the back of the armchair.

"What else could I get you to do?" he murmured into my ear before slowly running his tongue along the outside.

"Anything," I admitted in a single exhalation. The tempo was picking up a little. "Zexion?" I said as he pulled back, "Would you sing for me sometime?"

He watched me for a moment and sighed.

"Perhaps. I have a mission in Radiant Garden in two days," he said quietly, leaning his forehead against mine.

"How long?" I asked, placing a hand on his cheek to run my fingers along his smooth skin.

"Just under a week."

"What for?"

"Sorry, I can't tell," he said and gently kissed me.

Every time there was a mission, it was like we were going to war, leaving someone behind.

I gave him a lingering kiss, a note that went along a decrescendo into nothing. I held his slightly smaller form close, both of us sharing each other's warmth.

* * *

He came back right when he said he would. He looked tired, but overall unharmed. I ran towards him from down the hallway and pulled him into my arms.

"Hey, you," I said, smiling broadly.

"Hey," he said.  
"Success?"

"Success."

"Good," I kissed him, "I hung out with Roxel for a while."

"Roxel…?"

"So much easier to say than Roxas and Axel, y'know? So, they're Roxel now."

He chuckled with a wry sort of smirk, shaking his head.

"Miss me?"

"Of course I did, Zexy," I said and we kissed, espressivo.

* * *

It went like that for a while. At a nice, even tempo. There came a time that I knew even if Zexion didn't, I had to believe. Believe the ending of the sonata would be full grandioso, even if this movement was full of dark tones. The finale would be worth it, when espressivo was a marking on the sheet music that I didn't have to fake anymore. Believe not for me, but for him.

If I didn't he never would, and we would be left with a repeat sign, wishing it was a D.C al Fine, wishing we could find the coda—only to find another repeat. Either that or the conductor would cut someone off early, the balance of the symphonic orchestra sent into a vast pit of nothing, slowly crumbling into it- starting at the foundations.

* * *

**Interlude One**

"Zexion," Xemnas said, his low voice taking a warning tone, "You have done well on your assignments lately, though I do hope there is a certain amount of… dissent that can be quelled in this Organization. I trust in you to keep it at bay, and warn me of it. You are dismissed, VI." His orange eyes met mine and it was obvious. He was perfectly aware of Demyx and I. This was _my_ warning. As though as one of the originals, I should know better than this.

"I understand, Superior," I said, got up, gave a respectful nod, and immediately portaled away.

I was fighting back tears I didn't know I was capable of. What was this? A jerk of the leash, the punch line of a satirical joke, the satistic Fates leading me this way and that?

Demyx—the one I trusted, loved?—had to—had to—I loved him.

And now I had to leave.

Seeing those cerulean eyes of his full of pain would surely tear me to pieces, one thing I knew I would never be able to bear being the cause of. I prayed wildly to every deity I knew and didn't believe in, desperate, clinging to saving this saving voice. The voice of a musician whose words were sweetly full of dynamics I noted without noting consciously, the voice I knew, the voice that kept me… believing that perhaps this was a way to live after all.

"You okay Zexy?" I heard his cheerful voice from down the hallway as he rounded the corner.

"Yes—I'm fine. Listen, I have some more detail work that needs attending to," I lied.

"Can I help?" he grinned.

"Sorry, orders."

"Okay, he said, "I'll see you later, then?"

"Maybe." I turned and left.

* * *

It was extremely difficult to avoid him. I made excuses.

But was this even right in the first place?

When one does not have a heart to beat steadily, is any aspect of love… possible?

Should it be?

Is it worth it, or is it one long empty heartbreak after another, endlessly, without a single bit of pain relenting?

I knew that if I didn't stop this, we would end up… well…

As Demyx might say, the chords would simply fall to pieces and notes would scatter into lines and dots, unreadable, unplayable.

Silent.

As though they never had any intention of speaking at all.


	4. Movement Four

**A/N:** Phew! Got this one up. Hope it's satisfactory- I was a little nervous about this one. Well, it's time for me to go to bed. ^_^

Once again, thank you so much to reviewers. You keep me writing. ^_^ You rock.

* * *

**Movement Four- La Sérenade Interrompue/ The Serenade Interrupted and Interlude Two**

I didn't understand.

Why was he lying to me?

Dissonant chords rang in my ears more than ever before, clashing with the music I tried to write. The sonata was being written differently now, and I couldn't track the hand that made the dots and lines that formed the notes and guidelines for us all to follow.

I had tried so hard.

And I wasn't going to stop.

But… should I? What if… he really didn't care for me at all and he was just a small phrase in the polyphony? Only one sentence of notes in the individual harmonizing melodies… the counterpoint?

I threw the steady tempo of current happenings aside, seizing rubato and scherzo, wanting to drive the movement in the sonata faster. Allegro, accelerando. Driving.

* * *

I found him in the library again. He looked up, startled from whatever he had involved himself in.

"Zexion, what's going on?"

"I'm readi-"

"Between us." Momentary silence. A while rest, dictating we wait one measure. But the tempo was faster than he was ready for, and he missed his entrance. "You've been lying to me, avoiding me and-" he stood, such grazioso movements, shame evident in his indigo eyes.

"Stop. I won't leave you." His statement was firm, and it seemed to be the first honest thing I'd heard from him in two weeks.

"VI, Superior wishes to see you about your… assignment's details," Saix drawled as he entered the library, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Thank you, VII," Zexion said crisply, all grave again, serious. Saix left and he avoided my eyes. "I need you." Pianissimo. With that, he left. I couldn't say anything at all.

I waited for him to come back.

He didn't.

* * *

He wouldn't talk to me. He called me IX, not Demyx. I was getting fed up. Agitato. The overall tone was getting darker, veloce, just carrying on.

No matter how I tried, everything just went on.

There was a time he glanced at me—I gave him a steady stare in return, trying to pick up the melody again.

I couldn't hear his song anymore.

He was once again guarded against everyone.

* * *

The two of us caused a ripple effect amongst the others. I noticed. Axel was now always accesso—always on the verge of furioso, Roxas as agitato as I was, but con dolore. His tempo was more adagio than mine, as always. Larxene just snapped and carried more accented and staccato notes than ever—I had a feeling that Axel had something to do with the tension. And Zexion was silent. The dissonance was becoming unbearable. The sonata was falling apart. No one was watching the conductor. Eyes were glued to the page, only focused on getting the individual notes right.

When was someone going to look up and find the tempo again? We were all getting carried off on our own. Was the performance going to have to grind to a halt and restart?

I was having trouble with my own part enough.

* * *

I stormed after him, leaving a wake of furioso behind. He spun on me—the halls were dead silent as our atonal duet rang out.

"Stop! I won't leave you," I spat his words back at him, "I need you."

I received a cold glare in response.

"Zexion, please don't—"

"Leave me be," he said, voice all bellicose, capriccioso. He slid through a portal.

And just like the other times, he didn't come back.

I didn't know what to do.

All the music I could hear stopped.

Why did I feel so horrible—but not really feel it? This empty heartbreak.

Nothing hurts like nothing at all, and trying to imagine the hurt you should be feeling.

The sonata was as broken as my heart should have been, wherever it was.

* * *

**Interlude Two**

Words echoed in my mind. A book laid abandoned, open, the characters within whispering to me, words trying to ensnare me, and bring me drifting back into their world. But my ears were deaf to everything.

Guilt.

That was what I was supposed to be feeling right now… right? Battling against this—Xemnas' words and Demyx's, trying to fight for what I was supposed to represent and what I loved.

I still loved him.

It was an innate instinct, feeling drawn; something I knew was there, even if I couldn't truly feel it.

I knew I should be angry.

All I wanted to do was feel.

Demyx and his music—the only things in this life that were a cause for me to genuinely fight for—sometimes he could make me pretend I was feeling.

I couldn't take this anymore.

I was the set of notes falling, breaking, and becoming just ink on a page, no longer able to be heard. I was getting silenced.

The hurt in his eyes made me-

I threw myself against the wall, letting out a cry of despair that had been building up inside me since the day I died.

I heard quiet footsteps as the echoes died away. I slid down the wall, staring at nothing.

His footsteps were like the final signal that I was completely, utterly alone in this non-existence.

Fate had run its course.

Why would he love me anymore, if he ever had?

This-non existence we theorized about was so much more complex and so much more… just more than we thought.

If Demyx and I had known each other before our deaths, was history simply repeating itself?

I slowly picked myself up from the chilled marble flooring, feeling empty and cold myself, and wiped my eyes before once more shouldering the burdens of a Nobody. As nothing more than empty ink on a now empty page.

**-End of Interlude Two**

**

* * *

  
**

He didn't want to do this, I knew it now. That glimpse of-of him breaking, a sudden onslaught of music that was lacrimoso, lamentado, passionate—I knew. I just had to break through whatever had silenced him again, right?

I hoped so much.

Perhaps it was a lost cause.

I didn't know.

But I needed him.

* * *

I completed my missions in a furioso attempt to get him to look at me again.

I spent time alone.

Holding hands under the table during meals. His faint blush as I kissed his neck, ran my hands across his bare chest. Talking about how the stars glimmered so nicely in the sky. Breakfast atop the ruins in Hollow Bastion. The light lingering flavor of green tea on his smooth lips. His fingers lightly closing my eyes as that smooth voice I cherished so much whispered secrets so sweetly for only my ears to hear.

I sat in the room I had adopted as my instrument room at the piano bench, a little to the side, just in case.

I started playing his song.

Suddenly, I jumped, just stopping. Something had touched my hand.

A tear had fallen. Crystalline on the ivory keys.

He never came.

Not one footstep down the hallway.

I was alone.

A soloist separated from the rest of the band, thrown in front of an expectant audience.


	5. Movement Five

**Movement Five- Le Soirée dans Grenade/The Evening in Grenade, and Interlude Three**

**

* * *

  
**

The symphony had timidly begun again and the tempo was slower. Pesante, solenne, affanato. I wanted him to come back so badly. All for nothing.

The days came and went, we never spoke. I would see him in the hallways as though nothing had happened at all. We were all so alone. Nobodies. We were all truly just a bunch of Nobodies. Nothings.

Notes or rests?

Haunting individual melodies, twisted into—into—

I was faltering.

The days blurred into one another.

I sat in my instrument, trying to play my sitar. Trying. And there he was.

Watching silently, unreadable. I got up and darted over, desperate.

"Zexion, please just-"

"No," he took a step back.

"Don't—you said you—"

"Don't you dare come near me!" his voice raised to forte, eyes hard and cold.

So empty.

I stepped forward again and he summoned his Lexicon, indigo eyes narrowing further. Another resoluto step.

"I warn you, IX."

I fell to my knees, empty tears running down my face. He disappeared. I couldn't do this. The music was gone again, the music I lived for. Sobs wracked my body as I knelt there, from sometime long ago.

"Zexion please!" I cried to nothing. Despair. True anguish washed over me, a flashback of sorts. The rush of emotion rampaging through my veins was an overload. I didn't know what to do with it. I let it out until I could cry no more.

And it was suddenly gone.

Numb.

Heartless.

Nobody.

Alone.

* * *

The next day I found him in the library.

"Zexion?" I said my voice pianissimo. He looked up. "Why?" I felt half my age suddenly.

"Love is nothing without feeling, without a heart," Zexion said, mezzo-piano, bruscamente, like I wasn't worth his time. He had to keep counting his own part to find the conductor's beat again.

"Then why are we here?"

"Because we are a set of anomalies wandering the worlds. We have no reason. We have every reason to not be here."

"We can too feel!" I burst out suddenly, "I know it—I can—you just—you just have to remember!"

"No, you're wrong. Those without hearts cannot feel."

"No, _you_ are wrong! You know you remember, and if you can remember, then you can feel. I couldn't play if I—"

"You could play, and you do, without truly feeling. Music is simply a mathematical sequence of patterns written down so they are translated into pretty sounds. Feeling—"

"Music _is_ feeling. It's what feeling sounds like. No musician plays if they can't feel!" Music without feeling is like—like seeing in the dark, like climbing through air, like the sun being cold, like walking on the ceiling when you're not Xigbar!" I shouted, con brio, "It just isn't _music_!"

"Fine. Believe your silly notions, and perhaps you'll come to realize just how silly they are at some point," he glared, and walked away as though it would solve everything.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Perfect four-four time.

* * *

**Interlude Three**

Why couldn't he see how much this was tearing everything apart? Why couldn't he just, as selfish as it was, leave me alone?

I had… moved on. Gotten past it. Right?

I was strong.

The drawstrings of my cloak jingled with each brisk step I took down the extensive rows of shelves. A maze. I kept walking down the familiar pathways, each one full of tales reaching out and whispering to pull me into their world. I longed to join them, lose myself to them, to give in and forget, but I shook them off and continued.

There was one book I wanted to see right now, hidden off in some dingy corner.

Bound so carefully in leather, the Ansem Reports, right next to the Secret Ansem Reports. I knew them by…

I had them memor—

I knew the damned things very well.

Were these the answers to our existence? The reason, the very physics of how we came to be?

I pulled it out and gently ran my bare fingers along the edge of its worn pages. I hissed as a small cut appeared. I stared at the red line, shockingly bright against the other dimmer colors.

Was any of this right?

Were we all just… murderers of a sort?

I could see that with each day, Demyx was breaking more and more. Becoming as I was, just empty ink on a page. It was difficult to watch him listlessly wander through the halls, pensive and slow. A certain... desperation about him.

If he broke fully, I knew I would follow, not as strong as I thought.

I still just wanted to… hold him.

Apologize, tell him it was alright again.

But I was terrified to slip and be brought down.

* * *

**A/N:** Yaaaay! Movement Five. I just have to name Movement Six and it should be up too. ^_^ No, Zexion can't say 'memorized' because of Axel. Hope you enjoyed!


	6. Movement Six

**Movement Six- Nocturne/Night and Interlude Four**

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* * *

  
**

He looked down at me from the flight of stairs and turned away.

Now. Right now. Otherwise I might—

I took a portal to right in front of him as he turned. His eyes widened ever so slightly—indigo.

"Zexion—which is it? I've tried everything and you won't give me a straight answer," I pleaded, stepping forward.

He didn't step back.

He stepped forward.

He kissed me hard, passionate, diving back into espressivo.

"I can't hold back. You… there are some things in this life that can't be explained in this life. And I believe you. Because sometimes you can see in the dark, climb through air, the sun can seem cold sometimes, and sometimes you can walk on the ceiling when you're not Xigbar. Sometimes the impossible is a little more possible.

I kissed him back, and somehow, he ended up against the wall.

The symphony broke out in full amoroso, sognando, molto sostenuto, forte. The declaration was made, the tempo discovered, the symphony once again following the conductor without faltering.

Everything felt right.

Perfect.

Together.

Set.

Something.

* * *

I sat at the piano, Zexion's song flowing effortlessly from my fingers.

He came back.

Those quiet footsteps.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Perfect four-four time.

He sat down next to me.

"Demyx… why don't you have a song for yourself?" he asked, voice piano, yet con affeto.

"I don't need one," I said, lazily picking out chords.

"Oh?"

"'Cause existence is my song. And besides," I kissed his cheek, "You're my Lullaby Mysterioso."

He said nothing, and leaned his head on my shoulder.

* * *

**Interlude Four**

If this was what the memory of happiness was, I could exist with this. I felt that this was worth it. If there was anything in this life I stayed for, it was him.

I waited for him at the piano, elbows draped across it, one leg crossed, a little bored. He said he was going to be here ten minutes ago. This room smelled like him. Like a sea at night. There was a particular scent.

But then the dark scent of the Superior came closer. I watched, a smirk settling onto my face. As he walked past, I watched him, meeting his eyes with something akin to… defiance.

A dare.

Daring him to tell me that a member such as I wasting my time with IX was despicable.

**End Interlude**

**

* * *

  
**

I ran my hand slowly down his back, adagio, leggirio. Soft and sweet like the tremmelo light of the stars above. The moon was a little heart shaped now.

"So," I said, "Do you like your song?"

"I do. I don't know how you write things like that so easily," he said, leaning his arms on the railing.

"Honestly, I dunno either, but that's okay." We spoke mezzo-piano, a little softly, but libermente. We didn't have any restrictions now. The overall stress level in the Castle had lowered because of one small dissonant chord fixed, and the entire symphony was just so much better.

"Zexy?"

"Yes?"

"Would you sing for me?"

He sighed, for once seeming a little insecure.

"You really want me to…?"

"Absolutely."

"And you're going to pester me until I do?"

"Not pester…"

He looked at me in such a way that he said without words he knew I would.

"I'll just… get that over with."

"Oh awesome! I wrote a vocal part of you and-" I grabbed his hand and pulled him back into the room. "Just follow the melody of the right hand and you should be just fine," I said and sat down at the piano again. He stood a little bit behind me, watching with interest as I ruffled through my sheet music. I had written words to Lullaby Mysterioso. He looked over the words, glanced around, and nodded.

I took my gloves off and put them on the bench beside me, and began to play. Each carefully placed note slid into the air, piano chords gentile, grave, grazioso.

And then he began to sing.

His voice was smooth, a little rough, but perfectly capturing the minor key of the song.

He gained confidence after a few measures and sang a little louder. To me, his voice seemed to soar above it with the harmony tied to it, following neatly behind. His voice was strangely sweet and almost hopeful sounding. He didn't falter once. Not once, even when the piano part rested, or when it was only him at the end, fading, following the decrescendo to nothing.

There was silence for a moment, and I turned to him, beaming.

"Zexy… that was... so cool," I said, trying not to break the mood. He slowly—uncertainly—smiled.

It was the only time I had ever seen him just smile, freely. It was so nearly shy, but he seemed… happy. Relaxed. I got up and kissed him, throwing my arms around him.

If this was how the sonata was going to be played… I'd be okay with that.

* * *

Existence, the sonata, went on. Even if my part was tricky in places, I would never stop playing.

It was worth it.

Because once you got the key signature and the fingerings, it wasn't so difficult. It was playable. Sometimes you just had to sit down and work it out.

I knew there would be times when I had to sit down and work it out, but when you're in front of an audience, duets are more fun than solos.

* * *

He had been gone on a mission for a few days; something he said was going to be difficult. He'd told me that a lot of his missions involved returning to the Secret Lab, and noting what he found, occasionally carrying out tests for Vexen. This might have been one of those times.

A portal opened at the end of the hallway and he came out, saw me, and started running closer.

I caught him in my arms and we held each other tightly, like a molto rallentando moment at the height of a song close to the end, the final build before a grand pause.

"Hey… is something wrong?" I asked.

"No," he said, "I just missed you."

I smiled broadly in the few seconds of rests.

We stood on the balcony together again, fingers laced together like a chromatic scale.

"Hey Zexy?" I whispered.

"Hm?" he said, looking up with sleepy indigo eyes.

"I love you." A sweet pianissimo, arioso.

"I never one stopped loving you," he whispered, intimo.

This part of the sonata took a ritardando, closing chords swept away for good in a decrescendo.

It would continue though, as long as existence.

There would be an end to this sonata, but this isn't it. The sonata will go on until the true finale, until the conductor cues the end and cuts the players off, and takes a bow for the music that has been played.

_"Thank you for coming tonight, I hope you enjoyed our performance."_

**End.**

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* * *

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**A/N:** Thank you so much for reading! I put a lot into this, being a passionate musician myself, and enjoyed writing every word of this. Movement Six just made me smile the whole time I wrote it after finishing a chemistry final. So, thank you, very much again, you guys are awesome. So awesome.

About the titles, each one as I said before, is named after a particular song by Claude Debussy. Piano solos. I love them a lot, and found each one fitting to the moments. So, if you're interested, go check them out.'Reflets dans L'eau', 'Et la Lune Decend Sur le Temple Qui Fut', 'Reverie', 'La Sérenade Interrompue', 'Le Soirée dans Grenade', and 'Nocturne' were the songs I used. ^_^

Note: May 8-10 I will be working on a video with Peppermint Mocha that will be of this, sort of, since the storyline is based off of what we were deviously planning. I'm extremely excited. w If people are interested, I might post a link to it here.


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